


Relevant Interests

by BlackEyedGirl



Category: Leverage
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Community: comment_fic, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-01
Updated: 2010-05-01
Packaged: 2017-10-09 06:06:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackEyedGirl/pseuds/BlackEyedGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For comment_fic prompt for cyberpunk!AU, bleeding blue. Hardison is fascinated by the cut on Eliot's arm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Relevant Interests

Hardison is eyeing the open wound on Eliot's arm with something suspiciously like glee. "That is the coolest fucking thing I've ever seen."

"Hardison."

"Sorry. Sorry. It's just- you know. Computer geek. Android. It's hard to-." Hardison touches the blue fluid gathering at Eliot's elbow. He stares at it curiously. "Up close. You know?"

Eliot growls, "So help me, you even _think_ about licking your finger in some messed-up android-vampire thing, I'll have you on the floor so fast you'll-."

"Hey. Hey. There will be no licking. Not of… Anyway. Should that still be going? Stay there."

Hardison returns with bandages and begins to wind them around Eliot's arm with more enthusiasm than expertise. Eliot lets him. It's a better response than he thought he would get. Then, Hardison's always been a little too free with his thinking, along with the computer genius thing – otherwise he'd have been corralled onto the other side long ago. Instead he's hidden down here with his sixteen computers, and his bosses are paying Eliot to keep him safe from the police. He doesn't believe the things regular people do.

When Hardison's done, he sits back in his chair. "So. You're an android. This explains a lot, actually. Or not. Why have I – why hasn't anyone here – figured this out already? You get beat up for a living."

"I beat up _other people_ for a living. I'm really good."

"Not tonight."

Eliot shrugs. "Sterling's guy zigged. I zagged too late. It happens."

"It's not… software malfunction though, right?"

Eliot bristles. "Fucking government propaganda. Thought you knew better than to believe that shit?"

"Hey, I'm the hacker king down here – and by here I mean a filthy _literal_ underground with a hundred of my nearest and dearest – and you're asking me do I believe what the man up there tells me? I'm just… concerned. That okay with you?"

"The arm'll heal up fine. Long as you don't go blabbing and get a mob down here looking for the skinjob."

"Hold up. We're the good guys. Or the guys on the right side anyway. No one down here thinks-."

"Think ain't the same as do. Just try and keep your mouth shut. They'd probably get you looking for me anyhow."

Hardison smirks. "Now who's worried? Look, anyone comes after us I'll… let you beat them into a bloody pulp, probably. But after that I will be all over hacking into their police records and making them look like a resistance guy caught in the wrong place. They'll blame their own guys and our guys'll blame the police and it'll be-."

Eliot interrupts. "I'm getting the impression you've thought this through."

"Because I'm really good too. I've got contingency plans coming out of my ears, buddy."

Eliot raises an eyebrow. "Okay."

There's still a spot of blue on Hardison's finger. He wipes it off on a loose end of bandage and takes hold of Eliot's wrist. Eliot pulls back a little, but doesn't dislodge Hardison. Looking at the shift of artificially grown muscle and bone, Hardison says, "When I was a kid, I wanted to build one of you."

Eliot hums non-committal acknowledgement.

"Not in a creepy way. Really. Though maybe you could have pounded a few guys for me. I just wanted to- computers, you know? I'm kind of glad I went into this instead."

"Yeah? How come?"

Hardison laughs very quietly, like a private joke. "I never would have got you right. A.I.s don't… anyhow. You're a hell of a lot better than that."

Eliot's not sure how they got from 'you're pretty much a living computer, and that's awesome' to Hardison's hand on his thigh. But he's been classified a dangerously out-of-control kill-on-sight failed experiment for ten years already, so he's gathered enough evidence not to care so much about that side of things. Hardison'll try and explain later, probably. Eliot's arm will have healed up by then, so there'll be other things to do.


End file.
